Rock Chick Reckoning (Rock Chick #6)(102)

No way in hel I was leaving my dog behind.

If Sidney Carter was branching out, how soon would it be before he went after pets?

Even if my luck had started to turn, I was taking no chances.

The not-very-informative officers didn’t update me about Shirleen either except to say they were stil sorting things out “at the scene”.

The only scenes that involved my friends that I liked were the ones we created ourselves (and, for your information, I didn’t like those much either).

The officers escorted me to the outer office door of Nightingale Investigations. We were greeted by a silent, tight-faced, angry-looking Jack (and an angry Jack scared me enough to stay silent too), who took over, walking Juno and me to the down room.

The down room was where the boys had meetings and hung out if they were on cal . It also had a variety of fitness and weight lifting equipment. There was a couch but in the few times Mace had taken me to the offices the last time we were together, I’d never seen anyone sitting on it. The boys were usual y on the treadmil or the weight bench.

In other words (if you hadn’t already figured this out), the Nightingale Men didn’t real y know the meaning of “down time”.

As Juno and I entered the room, I saw Jules, Ava and Jet had their asses planted on the couch and they were sipping coffee. Daisy was sitting in a chair, leaned back, filing her nails. Al y had lifted up the back of the weight bench and she was lounging on it, legs straddling the bench. Indy and Roxie were seated at a table, playing double solitaire, mugs of coffee beside the cards.

In case this had not been proved irrefutably, their mel ow demeanor was verification they were al effing nuts.

“Is Shirleen okay?” I asked upon entry, Juno loping toward Roxie who had leaned to the side and was snapping her fingers at my dog.

“She’s fine but she’s pissed. She has to buy a new couch,” Al y replied.

I stared at Al y.

This answer both relieved and confused me.

“Thank God. Looking at that old one gave me a migraine,” Jet muttered.

I turned to stare at Jet.

“I liked it. Al those big swirls, black against white.

Drama. It was pure Shirleen,” Indy commented.

My gaze swung to Indy.

“Maybe Luke and I should get a new couch,” Ava put in thoughtful y. “I’m not sure I’m into al that leather.” I looked to Ava.

“I like Eddie’s couch,” Jet was stil muttering. When my eyes moved to her, I saw she had a smal smile on her face and it didn’t take a mind reader to know why she liked Eddie’s couch.

“Sugar, how you doin’?” Daisy asked and my gaze went to her to see hers was sharp on me.

I was pretty happy we weren’t talking about couches anymore, that’s how I was doing.

I opened my mouth to speak then clamped it shut.

Mace told me the Rock Chicks needed to be kept in the dark.

Effing hel .

So instead of sharing (anything), I said, “Hanging in there,” and it wasn’t a total lie.

Things were good with Mace and me (which I couldn’t tel them), shit everywhere else (but that wasn’t news).

However, I had a feeling that I had one more trial to get through when Mace final y told me the whole truth about Caitlin. And, after what happened that morning, I preferred someone shooting at me to whatever Mace had to say.

I walked deeper into the room and in order to get off the subject of me, I asked (against my wil taking the conversation back to couches), “What’s this about Shirleen’s couch?”

Daisy waved a hand in the air. “Oh, she just shot the guy who broke in this mornin’, used her .44, which means mess, comprende?”

It was Daisy I was staring at now.

Shirleen just shot the guy who broke in?

With a .44?

Why did Shirleen have a .44?

Strike that, I didn’t want to know.

When it appeared Daisy was waiting for me to confirm this information had sunk in, I nodded and Daisy continued,

“He reeled back, landed on her couch, blood everywhere.

She’s pissed. She loved that couch.”

“Did he shoot at her?” I asked.

“Yeah, she ain’t stupid,” Daisy kept talking but her attention went back to her nails. “With her history, no way she’d shoot someone, even an intruder, without him shootin’ first. Got three bul et holes in her wal but that’s okay, just needs a little spackle.”

Her history?

A little spackle?

Effing hel .

“He dropped the gun when she nailed him,” Daisy went on. “Problem is, she’d disarmed him but she was so pissed about him bleedin’ on her couch, she cold-cocked him with her gun butt anyway. She’s gonna have a bit of a problem explainin’ that.”

Oh my Lord.

“Anyway, they’l be here soon,” Daisy said, her eyes moving from her nails back to me. “And you and me got to talk about Dixon Jones.”

Nope.

No way.

Not gonna happen.

I pul ed a chair toward the couch and sat down. Juno decided to make the rounds and began doing person-to-person greetings. That was to say sniffing everyone.

“Maybe we can talk about Dixon Jones when people aren’t breaking into houses and bleeding on couches,” I said to Daisy.